


Promise

by jiya0325



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Apocalypse, Female Akaashi Keiji, Female Bokuto Koutarou, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I'm Sorry, M/M, Pain, Reincarnation, Suffering, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiya0325/pseuds/jiya0325
Summary: Bokuto would wait. He would wait lifetimes for Akaashi.If it was for Akaashi, he would do anything. Even if it meant spending his life searching for him.Because it was Akaashi Keiji and he was definitely worth the wait.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Promise

They were eight the first time. Bokuto was a week away from turning nine. Their neighborhood was at the edge of a warzone and it was always hazy, smoke blowing in from the north.

Akaashi moved to the house across the street. They met for the first time when a fire started, burning down houses. Everyone had left their homes, running down the street, away from the flames.

It took almost three hours for a fire truck to arrive. In that time, half the neighborhood had burned down. The Akaashi’ s house did too.

So, they stayed at the Bokuto’ s for a while.

Bokuto liked it.

Akaashi Keiji was nice.

Akaashi Keiji was smart.

Akaashi Keiji didn’t make fun of his silver and black hair.

They spent all day together. School had been canceled and there was nothing better to do than go outside to play volleyball with the other kids or read comics at night. Akaashi was fun to play with, and he liked him.

He liked having his best friend around all day and night. It was fun. Akaashi liked the same things he did. Akaashi was good at playing volleyball. Whenever Akaashi was around, it was always fun.

He wanted things to stay like this forever.

Then, two weeks after the fire, the Akaashi family moved again, to a city far away.

Bokuto never saw him again.

\---------------------------------------------------------

The second time, they were in college. Bokuto had moved away from home to attend, and he was there on a scholarship for volleyball.

When Bokuto saw him for the first time, in the back of the library at a desk surrounded by books, he remembered smoke.

Smoke and pillow forts. Long nights spent discussing comic books and video games. Volleyball games with other kids and scraped knees. A friendship that lasted all of two weeks.

By the time Bokuto snapped out of his memories, Akaashi had left.

So, he came back. Every day for a week until he saw him again. He had worked up the courage to talk to him, preparing conversation starters in his head.

The first thing he noticed when he sat next to him, was that Akaashi’ s eyes were beautiful.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed in his past life, or maybe he’d been too young to care.

They were blue, like the part of the ocean where the reef ended and the depths started, and Bokuto completely forgot what he’d been about to say.

He managed to start a conversation anyway, and they ended up talking the entire afternoon.

Akaashi was studying law.

He’d be the best lawyer ever, Bokuto was sure of it.

Because Akaashi was smart and nice and cool, and it wasn’t fair that he was so pretty too.

As they became friends, he started learning random facts about him.

How he only bought coffee from a certain café, which was half a block from his apartment, even though there already was a café on his street.

How he liked to play the violin when he was stressed out and was really good it.

How he liked fantasy books, but never had the time to read anymore because of his classes.

How he disliked one of his subjects but always made a point to get a perfect score simply because the professor doubted that he could.

How he was studying law because both his parents were lawyers and he wanted to uphold that tradition.

Every little detail, every fact and hope only made Bokuto fall harder, until he was helplessly in love with Akaashi.

They’d been friends for almost half a year now, and he was ready. He’d been planning on asking him with a little help from Kuroo, a member of the volleyball team. It’d be the perfect proposal and he was so, _so,_ ready.

Then he got a call from the hospital.

Akaashi Keiji was gone.

In a car accident, they said. There was drunk driver. Somehow that idiot had lived, but Akaashi had not.

And now, he was gone. Again.

\--------------------------------------------------------

This time, Bokuto was a pirate. This time, he was looking for Akaashi, searching and searching everywhere.

He had a crew, he had a ship, he had a reputation.

He just wanted Akaashi.

Kuroo was his first mate. When Bokuto told him what – or who – he was looking for, he’d just said okay.

He didn’t think anyone would believe him, so he was grateful.

Then Kuroo had said he was looking for someone too, and Bokuto had simply nodded.

Maybe he was looking for his soulmate too.

He was 25 when he docked his ship in the kingdom of Fukurodani for the first time. They’d robbed the kingdom’s navy many times, so they would have to be careful.

Bokuto had been exploring the ports when he saw him – Akaashi. He was in a black and white uniform, with gold lining and a sword strapped to his side.

But he was on the other side of the street and by the time the flow of horse drawn carriages and people slowed, he was gone.

He had been right there, and Bokuto had lost him. Again.

They ended up staying in Fukurodani for almost a month, the longest they’d stayed on land anywhere in a long while.

Bokuto didn’t see him again the entire time they were there. He wanted to stay – he wanted _so_ _badly_ to stay – in case Akaashi was still there, but a soldier had almost recognized their flag and so they left.

As they sailed away from Fukurodani, he could feel the despair set it.

What if this was the last and only time?

What if he would never see him again?

What if Akaashi was already gone?

It would be foolish to go back, especially right now. He and his crew were wanted in multiple kingdoms for pillaging ships and destroying goods.

So, he would wait.

Bokuto would wait. He would wait lifetimes for Akaashi.

If it was for Akaashi, he would do anything. Even if it meant spending his life searching for him.

Because it was Akaashi Keiji and he was _definitely_ worth the wait.

They were two months at sea now; he and Kuroo were planning out their route to Nekoma in the cabin when the call came.

A ship had been spotted, and it was heading straight for them.

When Bokuto got to the deck, he realized two things:

  * Black, white, and gold were Fukurodani’ s colors.
  * Akaashi worked for the enemy.



As the sailors prepared for battle – because there was _no way_ Fukurodani’ s navy had missed the silver owl on their flag – Bokuto prayed that Akaashi wasn’t on that ship.

But he knew fate was cruel, it had snatched Akaashi from his fingertips before and there was no promise it would change.

When the ship got closer to them, he grabbed a telescope.

Of course. He was there, commanding the other sailors, in the same uniform as before.

Bokuto had never hated being right more in all his lifetimes.

Now?

What was he supposed to do?

Fight him?

The very man Bokuto had been searching for the entire time?

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, _it wasn’t fair_ , and he hated every minute of it.

This stupid, stupid cycle of having him snatched away every single time and being unable to do _anything_ about it _._

Akaashi was not going to die this time.

Then the canons fired, and the battle begun. His crew threw the gangplank over to the other ship when they were close enough and crossed over.

Akaashi’ s men were waiting – of course, they were trained for this.

Bokuto fought his way around the deck, eyes searching for Akaashi. But he was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t fighting on the deck, he wasn’t in the crow’s nest, he wasn’t up by the wheel.

A man swiped at him, distracting him from his search. He fought him, stabbed him in the gut twice and left him to bleed.

He didn’t look back.

A sudden yell of his name drew his attention and – ah.

Akaashi had killed one of his men, the one who called out for him. Great.

His gaze lifted from the corpse, and blue eyes met gold. Akaashi moved away from the body, heading towards him. He swerved around the fighting with a grace that only Akaashi had, before striking out with his sword at Bokuto.

They went back and forth again and again, and Bokuto kept getting distracted – because it was _Akaashi_ – which was horrible, and he needed –

He blinked.

Ow. His side hurt.

He backed away from him, glancing down at the blooming red stain on his shirt.

Oh.

He laughed. For some reason, he laughed. He’d known only one of them would make it out alive. He’d sworn he’d make sure Akaashi lived. He hadn’t stopped to think what it meant.

Honestly, he was glad. Now the choice was made, no more thinking. He raised his head in time to see Akaashi lunge at him.

And he smiled.

He smiled as the sword cut into him, drawing a fresh stream of blood.

He smiled when – a second later – he saw a flash of recognition in those lovely blue eyes.

He was still smiling when his knees buckled, and the darkness claimed him.

Bokuto smiled, because at least Akaashi was okay.

At least this time, Akaashi got to live.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The fourth time, Bokuto didn’t remember anything. He played volleyball for Fukurodani Academy and Akaashi was the setter.

That was it.

Akaashi didn’t remind him of smoke or libraries or the ocean. He was just Akaashi Keiji and that was it.

But the way he looked at him… it made him feel like he was forgetting something important.

Did Bokuto like him in this life?

Of course.

It was impossible to _not_ like Akaashi, with his bright eyes and adorable half-smile. He was smart and funny and nice, and he always knew how to cheer Bokuto up and yet, why did he always make him feel like he was forgetting something?

Sure, Bokuto often forgot his homework or his lunch box or anything really, but the constant nagging at the back of his mind whenever he saw Akaashi was confusing and irritating.

He wanted to ask.

But what would he say?

How do you ask someone a question you don’t even know?

Nationals were coming up and now was probably the worst time for this to plaguing his thoughts.

He would not sacrifice Nationals for this.

It was his last year and it was the last chance he’d ever get to win.

Sure, he planned on playing professional, but this was the last time with _his_ team.

With Fukurodani.

With Akaashi.

So, he pushed the thoughts away. When he was playing or talking to friends or when he was busy, doing anything, the feeling went away.

But when he was idle, it came back full force, driving him crazy. So, he invested himself into his studies when he couldn’t busy himself in volleyball.

His grades rose as the weeks passed. His parents were happy. His teachers were happy.

But it was getting out of control now.

He couldn’t sleep. The questions started as soon as his eyes shut and now, he was waking up multiple times a night to distract himself.

It was affecting volleyball too, and Bokuto could see other people notice, namely, Akaashi.

Obviously, Akaashi noticed. He noticed everything but kept it to himself.

He would wait until the time was right, then he’d confront the problem, because he wasn’t a coward.

He didn’t run like Bokuto, confused, and lost, from random questions that made no sense.

Akaashi was cool.

Akaashi was smart. He’d know exactly what to do.

So Bokuto did the only reasonable thing he could think of; he started avoiding him.

When Akaashi was around, the questions were louder, pounding at his skull, begging him to ask.

Who are you?

Have I met you before?

Where? When? How?

Why?

They used to meet up on the way to school, eat lunch together, stay late after practice and walk home.

Now, Bokuto was rushing to school, eating alone in his classroom, leaving with the other members, and practically running home by himself.

It was bad. He was making volleyball practice worse by trying to make it better and the time was running out.

He wasn’t too surprised when Akaashi cornered him in the locker room, but dreaded the conversation, nonetheless.

Most of the members had left by now, and they were almost alone. Bokuto took his time, wrapping his scarf around his neck slowly but Akaashi stood patiently.

He didn’t speak until they left the school gates and his words echoed in Bokuto’ s head as he walked the rest of the way to his house.

_‘Bukoto-san, I like you. I want to confess properly after Nationals, and you don’t need to answer right now. But I just wanted you to know.’_

After that Akaashi had turned and left, leaving no room for discussion.

Not that Bokuto could talk anyway. The confession had left him shocked and ridiculously happy.

Akaashi liked him back.

Akaashi liked him back

_Akaashi liked him back!_

He laid on his bed for all of two minutes, before giving in and calling Kuroo to tell him.

The questions faded after that.

He could sleep again.

He could play volleyball properly again.

He was ready for Nationals.

Until he wasn’t.

Until the ball was falling, hitting the court with a loud smack, resonating in his skull.

But it was on the wrong side of the net.

The ball should not be falling on this side. No, no, no, no, _no._

Then he was on the bus back, and everyone was silent, with the cloud of loss looming over their heads.

It was _not_ supposed to go like this.

They were going to win, and Akaashi would officially confess, then Bokuto would confess, then they could be together and… why was it happening like this?

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be perfect and wonderful and … why?

The word spun in his head over and over, the entire bus ride.

 _Why? Did we not train enough? Our team is the amazing. So why? Why? Why?_ Why?

It wasn’t fair.

When they got back, Coach said something.

Bokuto wasn’t listening.

Then it was his turn. He was the captain. So, he smiled and told them next year would be their turn and they’d be great.

Next year. When the third years would be gone. When Bokuto would be gone.

They all cried a bit. Bokuto didn’t like to remember that part. It hurt. It hurt too much.

Today he walked back home with Akaashi. Neither spoke.

At the intersection where they spilt, Akaashi turned to him, smiled and whispered goodbye.

Bokuto nodded in return, mind numb and heart heavy, continuing on his way home.

It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to the door that he realized Akaashi hadn’t said goodnight.

He’d said goodbye.

\--------------------------------------------------------

The fifth time, Bokuto realized Akaashi wasn’t the only repeat.

Kuroo. Fukurodani. Volleyball.

His friends, school names, his favorite sport…

This time was different though.

This time, Kuroo was the enemy. Kuroo and Kenma and their team was on the other side of the battlefield.

A war was raging, between Fukurodani and Nekoma – once the names of their schools, once the names of kingdoms.

This time, Akaashi was by his side, even when they were recruited.

When they went through training.

When they were deployed overseas.

When they started fighting on the front lines.

Akaashi was there and Bokuto was glad because there was no way he could do this on his own.

They had met in high school, become friends and then Bukoto had confessed. Akaashi had accepted, and they’d been together for about a year now. Four days – _four days_ – after they became official, the letter had come, demanding they join the war effort.

It felt like a sick joke.

But there was no choice, and here they were.

Hunkered down in trenches, firing at Nekoma’ s soldiers.

Bokuto hated every second.

The only thing that kept him going, the faint hope of survival and a promise of a life with Akaashi.

The chance was slim.

He knew it.

The universe was cruel. Constantly giving them a chance before taking it back.

_Every. Single. Time._

Not this time. Neither would die this time, Bokuto swore it. The universe could mess around with someone else.

This would be the last time.

Then, the ranks shifted, and they were separated.

Bokuto moved up. Akaashi’ s troop was relocated, to a city further in.

He didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, Akaashi was away from the worst of the fighting, but he was far away from Bokuto too.

What if he got hurt?

What if he was captured?

What if … _anything_. Anything could happen and he would be too far away. How would he know?

He wouldn’t.

And that was that.

So, Bokuto fought.

The harder he fought, the higher up ranks he could go. The higher up he went, the more important he became. The more important he became, the more power he could get. If he had enough power, maybe he could reunite them.

Maybe.

It was the only way to live, and at this point that was all he wanted.

To live. With Akaashi.

But fate had other plans.

When it happened, he didn’t need a letter or message to tell him.

He could feel it.

A searing pain across his chest that made him fall to his knees, gasping for breath. When the pain faded, he felt cold. So, _so cold_ as if someone had carved out his chest.

Akaashi was gone and Bokuto was _so useless._

He couldn’t protect the _one person_ he spent _lifetimes_ searching for.

The one person he’d sworn to protect, to _save_ from the cycle of madness they were trapped in.

And he couldn’t do _anything._

He lost it.

The rage that had built up in every life, every time he lost Akaashi and was denied what he wanted so _badly_ , it all came flooding out. It filled every corner of his mind until that was all he saw and all he felt, until it filled the painful hollow in his chest with burning fury and hatred.

He lashed out.

Bokuto didn’t remember most of it, as if it was someone else altogether. The soldiers who had been with him told him the story.

He’d killed over fifty soldiers in maybe twenty minutes.

Fifty soldiers.

Fifty lives. Gone in twenty minutes.

He had come out of the carnage mostly unscathed. Mostly.

There was a large gash on his left arm, and even though he didn’t want it, the memory was ingrained in his mind.

Kenma.

He was on the front lines and the sight of his familiar face made Bokuto pause.

Of course, that’s when Kuroo came up behind him, with a dagger in his hand.

Bokuto ended up killing him.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

Childhood friend, volleyball player, first mate, rival team captain. Enemy.

He killed his best friend.

Were they stuck too?

Kuroo and Kenma?

They’d been together in every life Bokuto remembered, were they soulmates?

He’d turned back after that. Kenma had disappeared, and Bokuto was glad. He didn’t think he could face him. On the way back, he almost wished someone had shot him.

That night after everyone congratulated him – _for_ _killing his best friend_ – he laid in bed, wishing.

Wishing this painful cycle would end.

Wishing he was strong enough.

Wishing he could actually do _something._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

This time, he was in yet another world, with magic powers and superheroes.

This time, Bokuto could do something. He could control time. He could take it back, from five minutes to a day.

But it was exhausting. It left him unable to get out of bed for days on end.

Rewinding a day left him bed for two weeks.

Another joke. A reminder, that even with those powers, he couldn’t do much.

But what he _could_ do, it was enough.

Enough to train as a hero, enough to be a strong hero. Enough to bring attention to himself, that hopefully Akaashi would notice.

But would he care? Would he be another hero, or someone special? Would he remember? At least this time? Just once, he _had_ to remember him. Just once.

He spent his days saving people and drawing attention and hoping Akaashi would notice. The nights he would roam the cities, searching.

He ended up finding someone else. Kuroo. They had ended up working for the same agency, and somehow, he hadn’t noticed.

They ran into each other by accident, in the lobby of building. Bokuto was frozen, staring at Kuroo until he realized he was crying. He’d apologized, over and over again, still crying. Then Kuroo had hugged and said it was okay and it was fine because it wasn’t his fault – and oh.

Oh.

Kuroo remembered.

Bokuto wasn’t the only one. He wasn’t alone in this cycle of hell.

It made sense now, why he always found Kuroo.

They teamed up after that first meeting, both still on the hunt for their partners. They found Kenma a couple months later, and Bokuto realized that Kenma didn’t remember.

So, could Akaashi? Could he remember any of the past? Any of the lives they’d shared? Kenma didn’t seem to remember anything like that. But could he?

There was only answer. Find him.

He spent the rest of his entire life searching for Akaashi.

He never found him.

\-----------------------------------------------

The next time, they were born as girls. They were neighbors, their families were close, and they grew up together.

There was no war. No searching. No pain, no loss, no hurt.

Just talking late at night, with paper cup telephones stretched across the fence that separated them. Afternoons tossing a volleyball back and forth or going to the library to finish homework. Walking to school together in the morning.

It was quiet and peaceful. It was perfect.

Akaashi was right there. So why was it so difficult? Why did she keep hesitating?

Because the society was strict. There were different rules here, about who could date who. Two men were fine. In this world, it was perfectly normal for two men to be together.

But two girls? Together? No.

It was _wrong_ , they said. It was _weird_. Love didn’t work like that. How could two girls love like that? It didn’t make sense. It just wasn’t possible, and so it wasn’t allowed. It was downright illegal, and the penalties were severe.

That’s why, Bokuto realized. We were born as girls because that’s not allowed here.

But she’d stopped caring a long time ago.

She confessed a couple days later, knowing the chances of acceptance were slim.

But Akaashi had accepted.

Now here they were, under the covers in Bokuto’ s room, making plans to leave. They would run away, in the middle of the night. It would be easier this way. To make a new life together, somewhere far away in a city where no one knew them.

It would be so much easier.

So, at 17 years old, they ran away. Away from their families and homes and lives.

Weeks spent on the run passed by and Bokuto learned that it wasn’t different.

Everywhere they went, the rules didn’t change. Two girls? Gross, it doesn’t work like that.

They kept going, further and further away from their old lives. Surely there must be some place that was fine? Where they wouldn’t be kicked out? Where they wouldn’t be glared at and threatened and ridiculed? The entire world couldn’t be so cruel, right?

They were halfway to Nekoma - a nearby city – when it all went downhill.

The town they were in was bad, ruled by some gang.

That should have been enough to warn them off. But it was the fastest route and winter was fast approaching, they didn’t have the resources to live like this much longer.

It should have been enough to warn them off, but Bokuto was hopeful and so they went.

Two pretty, young girls? Walking alone in a bad town after dark?

Ideal.

When the men started following them, Bokuto noticed and she sped up.

The men didn’t slow and the next thing they knew, they were standing right in front of them.

It was fine. They’d be fine. They would be fine. It was – one of the men reached his hand toward Akaashi and it was _not fine_.

Bokuto fought. There was _no way_ she’d let them hurt her. There was no way she’d fail to protect Akaashi again.

But there were three, bulky, armed men against an untrained teenage girl.

And they didn’t seem to like feisty girls either.

So, they grabbed Akaashi and pressed a knife to her throat. One of them locked Bokuto’ s arms behind her and forced her to watch.

They forced her to watch as they threatened Akaashi.

Forced her to watch as they led them to an alleyway.

Forced her to watch as they put their _disgusting_ , _filthy_ hands on her.

Forced her watch as Akaashi – sweet Akaashi who’d never done anything to deserve this hell – cried and screamed and begged for mercy.

Forced her to watch as they slit her throat and dumped her body on the ground when they were finished with her, and she watched the scarlet pool around black curls.

Bokuto was honestly glad when she managed to kill herself before they could touch her.

\------------------------------------------------------

At this point, Bokuto had lost count of the number of lives. He was a boy again and the world was different.

Technology dominated everything. It was a world where influencers and streamers ruled the world as the rich and wealthy. Where jobs like doctors and engineers weren’t much. It was like the world had been flipped upside down, and Bokuto kind of liked it even if was a little strange.

There was no pressure to study and get a job and become a successful family man.

It was easy, but it was a bit weird.

He met Kenma first at school. They were in a coding class and Kenma was definitely the best there. They ended up partnered for a project when Bokuto had recognized him as Kuroo’s soulmate, and then immediately befriended him.

A couple months later, he got roped into a gaming video with him and realized the power that would come with being a streamer.

It was a great idea. Technology was everywhere and uploading videos with their faces on the vast internet was smart.

So Bokuto made a video of his own, a simple gaming one. It wasn’t much since the quantity of gamers online was ridiculous, but it was a start and that’s all he needed.

So, kept going, a video every other week or so. Not much.

But then, almost half a year later, Bokuto was suddenly too popular. Suddenly, _everyone_ liked watching his videos and were constantly demanding _more._ Now adays, he was stuck inside gaming, editing, and posting video after video.

If he’d been a little less famous, then he could take his time. He could go out and search for Akaashi in person. Because what were the chances that Akaashi liked gaming? What were the chances he would stumble upon his channel and like it?

But there was nothing he could do to influence Akaashi when he hadn’t even met him yet. So, he was stuck here, in the hope that maybe Akaashi liked gaming and would see his videos and would message him.

So, he waited and watched the numbers of views rise steadily.

1 week.

3 weeks.

2 months.

4 months.

6 months.

7 months.

9 months.

A year.

It kept going. Until he had 100k views regularly and still no sign.

There were other messages yes, but he had a feeling he would _know_ when Akaashi finally messaged him. He would know, and that’s what he was waiting for.

But it had been almost two years now, and nothing. Radio silence. Had he missed him? Had he done something wrong? Was it too late? Was he gone?

No, maybe that wasn’t it.

Could he quit then?

Clearly, Akaashi didn’t like gaming.

Maybe he could do something like volleyball. He’d always loved volleyball. That hadn’t changed. In every life and world and body, that hadn’t changed.

That night, at around ten o’clock, as he lay in bed wondering what to do, he got a message.

> Hello. Are you Silver_Owl?

And he felt it. The rush of warmth and burning hope.

>> That’s me!!

>> you?

> OceanBlueEyes

It was stupid. Bokuto knew it. The chances that this was Akaashi was low. Lots of people had blue eyes. Right? The feeling was because of the timing of the text. That was it. It didn’t have to _mean_ anything. Right?

So Bokuto talked to him. And they talked and talked and talked, well into the night.

The few hours stretched into days, and days into weeks, weeks into months.

It was almost three years after he’d started the channel, and four months spent chatting with OceanBlueEyes.

He was sure now.

It had to be him. Who else could it be?

The way he spoke – or typed.

The formality.

The punctuation and details.

It was Akaashi. _It had to be_.

Because he had fallen in love with the responses and the sarcasm and the person behind the screen, a million miles away in who knows where. It had to be Akaashi. Who else could it be?

So, they planned a meeting. 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Tuesday next week at the Central park in the city square, by the water fountain. Wear black and white clothing, so they could tell.

Simple. It wasn’t far from his apartment. It would hardly take ten minutes to walk there. It was easy and Bokuto was ready. He had prepared and planned and daydreamed and fantasized for this.

To meet Akaashi in person again. To see his sparkling eyes and cute smile and the way he ducked his head when he was flustered.

He was ready.

He showed up at the park on Tuesday, at 1:55 pm – just to be safe. He was dressed in black and white and little bit of gold because those were Fukurodani’ s colors. He sat by the fountain and waited. And waited.

No one came up to him, dressed in black and white, with ocean blue eyes.

Akaashi never showed up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

The world was in chaos, this time around. The apocalypse was happening, and they were in the heart of it, in Tokyo, Japan. A plague, transferred by cuts, that turned you into a monster and killed you slowly. There was no cure and the only solution was to fight them off.

They grew up together and Bokuto was thankful for that one small blessing in the madness they lived in. Their parents had died years ago from the plague, when the barriers around Tokyo were still being built. Fukurodani took them in, a school to train children to fight the monsters that roamed the earth to protect what was left of humanity.

So, they trained. Years went by as they trained and prepared to protect civilization. They practiced and practiced and Bokuto was the strongest in their class. They practiced some more and suddenly; they weren’t six years old anymore. They were eighteen and they’d be entering the field soon, ready to do what they spent their life preparing for.

To fight the monsters back away from the wall that had been built around the city. To protect the people inside, to save them.

It felt nice. Knowing that for once, as long as he kept fighting, the people would be safe. He _could_ protect someone this time. Maybe not Akaashi, but he could help _someone_ and that was enough. Right?

But Akaashi was going out with him, and he couldn’t do anything about that.

And Bokuto was _scared_. He remembered the last time they’d been in battle. He remembered how they were separated. He remembered the overwhelming pain he’d felt when Akaashi died. He remembered what he’d done after.

Bokuto remembered and he was scared.

Akaashi didn’t.

He wasn’t afraid of the past because he didn’t remember any of it. He wasn’t afraid from what happened before because he only remembered the here and now. But Bokuto noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed, and he bit his lip when the topic came up. Akaashi was scared, but he was brave.

So Bokuto was brave too. He was the best in their class, he could protect Akaashi. He would and they would be fine.

The night before the first day out, they made a promise, in the quiet of the dorms, huddled on Akaashi’ s top bunk. One that Bokuto hated, but agreed to, nonetheless.

_‘If I’m infected, you will end me before I can hurt anyone.’_

That was the promise and Bokuto _hated_ it, but he understood. If he got infected, then he wanted Akaashi to be the one who finished it, before he could hurt anyone else, especially him.

If Akaashi was infected…

No. It wouldn’t come to that. Akaashi would be fine. Bokuto promised it.

And if there was thing he’d learned; it was his promises.

Society could be different. The world could be different. Everything could be different but Bokuto and Akaashi would not.

Bokuto was still lively and energetic and funny and strong. He had control over what he said and how he acted.

Akaashi was still quiet and smart and graceful and _so_ elegant. He was still gorgeous and none of that changed.

If there was one thing Bokuto had control of in this messed up cycle, it was himself. And he _would_ keep his promises.

The next day they boarded a bus at dawn, filled with others heading out to become guards. The bus was crowded, and Bokuto knew that many of them would die. Defending the wall wasn’t easy, and they constantly needed new people to replace the spots when the older ones died.

It took two hours to drive through the streets of Tokyo and get to the wall, and he spent the entire time looking at Akaashi.

He was terrified. He was familiar with the universe; he knew its tricks. He knew it liked to play games with him, to taunt him and hurt him. He knew something would happen. And he was terrified.

Terrified of the power it held over him.

Terrified of the possibilities.

Terrified he that would lose him all over again.

Akaashi noticed.

Akaashi always noticed.

Akaashi smiled softly and whispered to him.

He always knew what to say and do and it always, _always_ made him feel better.

By the time the bus stopped at wall, Bokuto had made a new promise.

It was stupid to fight against fate, no matter how often he’d tried to, he kept losing. So Bokuto would find Akaashi in every life and hope they could spend it together.

He would do whatever. He just wanted Akaashi.

The first day was the tour. They were shown the bunkers, the mess hall, the gates, and the towers. They were told the rules and hierarchy. After all was explained and shown, night had fallen. Despite the importance of tomorrow, the threat looming over the horizon kept him from sleep.

When morning came around, Bokuto had slipped back into despair.

He _knew_ something would happen.

Something absolutely horrible.

There was no guarantee that both of them would make it out alive today.

He hated himself for thinking that.

But fate was cruel, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He stepped out of the wall gate with Akaashi by his side an hour later, dressed in armor and armed with weapons.

The entire time spent out of the walls, Bokuto was on edge. Fists clenched, eyes sweeping over the area back and forth, quickly fighting off any monsters they saw.

They returned at around nine o’clock that day. Both of them. Unharmed.

As the days slipped by, Bokuto began to hope. Maybe fate had turned elsewhere? Maybe the universe no longer cared about them? Maybe they were, finally, _finally_ free?

Maybe.

Two months moved by and he was ecstatic. A faint cloud of fear still lingered, but it faded with each passing day spent safe and together.

 _Finally_. They must have done something right – training or talking or meeting – or maybe fate just didn’t care anymore.

Either way, they were free and Bokuto was happy because _finally_ he got time with Akaashi.

Finally, finally, _finally._

It had been three months since they came, and only half the original class had survived. They had just finished a patrol and were changing in the locker room when the call came.

A large pack had been spotted, they said. Almost fifty of them travelling together, just out of the eastern border.

Only seven of them had patrol on the eastern border now, so they needed a couple more guards to ensure success in fighting off the mob.

Just his luck to get roped into it, even though he was already tired from his own patrol.

The fear burning in him flared but he ignored it. They would be fine, there were twelve of them going now, and monsters weren’t too difficult to fight.

So, they geared up again and walked out the wall, heading to the east.

The wall only had two gates, one north and one south of Tokyo, to make it easier to protect. By the time they reached the area the pack was expected to go to, they were almost two miles from the nearest gate.

And Bokuto was tired.

The pack would be here any minute, so he slapped himself awake and focused on the scenery in front of him. The space outside the walls was overgrown and green, with curling vines and sprawling tree branches that hid the sky, a sharp contrast to the city inside, all steel and glass and sharp edges.

Bokuto liked it. He liked the plants and the life that grew freely, unbothered by the apocalypse and the fear of civilization falling. Well, plants wouldn’t care much civilization anyway.

The image of freedom was only tainted by the corpses of the monsters and, more than he like to admit, of guards.

It was too easy to pretend he was in another world and ignore the rotting corpses at his feet.

But every time he did glance down and see lifeless eyes staring back up at him, his fear spiked.

One day, that could be them. Lying in the forest, forgotten and lifeless. That could be them.

So, he ignored them. He focused on the trees and bushes and – ah.

They were here. The monsters.

Seeing the guards, they poured out of the foliage, ready for a fight and thirsting for blood. The clearing between the wall and the trees filled up with them, claws sharp and canines bared.

But there were more. And more. And they kept coming, until there were almost a hundred against the twelve of them.

There were _supposed_ to be fifty. No more than fifty, they said. It would be a quick slaughter, not too much work.

Yes. It _would_ be a slaughter, but Bokuto didn’t know whose it would be anymore.

There was no way to run back now, not with a hundred monsters at their heels. Even if the guards up on the wall saw and called for help, it would be too late by the time reinforcements arrived.

But there was no going back now.

Twelve armed guards against almost a hundred feral beasts.

They had to fight. There was no choice.

The fear that had almost burned out came back full force, until he was frozen in place.

This was it. The part when Akaashi got hurt and Bokuto was unable to do anything. Just when he thought it was over, when there was hope for survival, for a happy ending…

Again, and again. They were stuck in this never ending cycle and it wasn’t _fair_ that he spent lifetimes searching and hoping and praying that this time would be different.

It wasn’t fair. The power the universe had over him, constantly torturing him and making him beg for freedom…

It wasn’t fair, _it wasn’t fair._

But there was nothing – nothing, _nothing_ – he could do to change it. He had no power. He was a pawn in this game, forced to move when fate chose it.

He could do _nothing,_ and _it wasn’t fair._

But what else was new? He’d known since the beginning, that whatever was happening was out of his control and he had no choice but to play along.

Play along. The only available option. In every life, follow the pattern and die a horrendous death after living a life of suffering.

Every. Single. Time.

And it wasn’t fair, but what could he do?

He wasn’t a god. He was human. A plain and simple mortal being with no power in how fate decided to play the game.

All he could do was play along.

If that meant fighting, alright.

If that meant searching, alright.

If that meant lifetimes on repeat of hoping and praying, alright.

Because it meant Akaashi Keiji and he was so, _so_ worth it.

But if Akaashi got hurt again…

_It would not come to that._

So, he grabbed his gun and started shooting. The faster they could get out of here, the better. The faster they were back on the other side of the wall, the better. The faster they were safe again, the better.

But it was hopeful thinking. He was sure the universe wouldn’t let them go so easily.

It wasn’t too hard to keep the monsters back. There were many, but they were weak and slow, and the guards were well equipped. It was fine. They were _fine_.

Until Konoha got cut. Then Komi. And another and another until there were only five of the twelve left, against maybe thirty.

_They were losing._

Bokuto cut down one of the monsters as the bullets ran out. There wasn’t much ammunition left… where was everyone? He turned, eyes sweeping over the battlefield as he counted the corpses.

_Seven gone. Why did we think it’d be fine? It’s not fine. We’re going to die. All of us…_

His eyes paused on Akaashi, who was fighting off a beast of his own. But there was another, running straight at him. From behind.

_No._

_Oh well, he’s gone. Why’d I think I could save him? I can’t do anything…_

_No. I’ll try. For ‘Kaashi. I’ll save him…_

He ducked around the other monsters, narrowly avoiding their claws as he swiped out with his blades, but only managed to hurt a few.

_It’s fine. We’re all going to die anyway. I’ll see him again in the next life. Why does it matter?_

_No. I’m not going to lose him again. I can’t be that useless._

Akaashi turned towards Bokuto, the first monster collapsing in front of him. He didn’t see the monster behind him, but Bokuto did. And he screamed.

Bokuto screamed, rage and fear and so, _so much fear_ released in a single cry as he sprinted towards him at full speed. Akaashi – _finally_ – noticed the monsters coming up behind and ducked out of the way, whipping out blade and stabbing it as it passed him.

He wasn’t fast enough.

No, no, _no._

Bokuto saw a line of red seep through his shirt.

_No._

Akaashi wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Akaashi was supposed to be okay and safe and happy.

_It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t life be fair for once?_

_They were_ so close _. Why, why,_ why _?_

_Why were they stuck like this?_

He collapsed next to him, tears spilling down his cheeks as he stared at the scarlet staining his once white shirt. Akaashi looked up at him and smiled softly, ignoring the blood.

It wouldn’t take long, maybe an hour for the change. An hour left, before Akaashi turned feral.

His skin was paling already. Stage one.

_There has to be something… please no. I can’t lose him again. Not again. Please, please, please…_

If Akaashi sensed his desperation, he didn’t say anything. Instead he said the words that Bokuto hated so, _so much._

_‘Bokuto-san. Promise.’_

But he was selfish. He was horrible and selfish and why couldn’t they make a cure? There had to be a cure… there was a cure for _everything!_ But not the plague.

There wasn’t a cure for the plague and there was _nothing_ he could do…

_‘Bokuto-san. Please.’_

So, he hugged Akaashi one last time – even though they were told not to touch the infected – and pulled out his dagger.

His vision was blurry but Akaashi was still smiling, even when tears slid down his own face.

Why?

Why were they stuck?

Why was fate so cruel?

Why was Bokuto _so useless?_

He raised the dagger. Why?

\----------------------------------------------------

Bokuto could see the strings this time. Red threads stretching from the hand of one person to another, fluttering in a breeze and wrapping around objects. He didn’t know what it meant, and he learned to ignore them.

His own string had stretched out in the distance until he was ten. That’s when he met Akaashi, at the playground in winter. It fell from his pinky finger and wrapped around Akaashi’ s.

So, it must mean soulmates. Right?

There were other people who claimed to see strings, and they worked in the government. The rules were really strict this time; you could only marry your soulmate and there was a division of the government dedicated to matching people up.

That meant they could see the same strings Bokuto could. So why did they call them yellow when he saw red?

But it was fine. If the government chose who would marry who based on the strings, they would definitely be together this time because they were soulmates.

This life was much easier. No fighting, no frantic searching, no fear, no oppression. Because they were together, and society was safe for once. There wasn’t anything against being gay this time and he was glad. They could be together, and there would be nothing against it.

It was _painfully_ simple, and hope was burning inside him. But he was suspicious.

There had been childhood loss, a short time at college, a life of piracy, then volleyball and a war, fruitless searching then different bodies, video gaming and an apocalypse and now, _soulmates._

It had been obvious before, that maybe they wouldn’t be able to be together because there was a war or oppression or Akaashi just wasn’t there. But now? The chance was being handed to them on a silver platter.

And Bokuto was suspicious. Happy, but suspicious because the universe was not kind. It had not been kind before, and Bokuto wasn’t ready to trust it just yet. He was still hurting from the scars of before, he didn’t need any more.

Years passed slowly and they were 18. The matching ceremony – to decide their _life partners_ – was in a few days and Bokuto was nervous.

Should he confess? He wanted to confess, but the nervousness swept over him and left him unable to do anything.

Besides, they were soulmates, they’d end up together.

The ceremony was held once a year, in December so everyone who turned eighteen would attend. It would be held downtown, in a fancy building even though the ceremony was really quick. Enter the building, get some certificate for officially becoming an adult, wait, go into separate rooms with the matchmakers, get the file for your soulmate, get out, leave.

It was simple. Straightforward and to the point, it was easy, but he was still nervous, even though he knew who his soulmate was.

On the train ride there, Bokuto twirled the red string around his pinky finger, tracing it with his eyes to where Akaashi sat across him.

His strings were red, but they were supposed to be matched off yellow strings. What did the colors mean? Could everyone see yellow? Why couldn’t he?

So, he asked Akaashi. And he answered. He said no, he could see blue strings but didn’t know what they meant.

It only raised more questions. Could everyone see a different color of strings? Could only a few people see strings with different colors? What did that mean?

Then they were at the building, ushered inside and seated in the auditorium. There were maybe a couple hundred teenagers here, all waiting for their certificates and – more importantly – their soulmates.

The opening ceremony lasted longer than he liked, and it took hours to get through the certificates as each person was called onto stage. Akaashi had been one of the first to be called since it was based off of family names. Bokuto was soon after, but there were _so many people there._

When they called his name, he stood and walked to the stage. They handed him the certificate and shook his hand, he smiled politely, thanked them, walked back to his seat and finally he was done.

Now, he’d just have to wait until _they_ were done.

His mind wandered to the strings again, because lately that was all he could think about. It made sense, the matching ceremony was happening, and his spouse would be decided. He knew it would be Akaashi.

So why was he so nervous?

They were soulmates, so what was there to worry about?

After what felt like years as the officials slowly worked through all the teenagers – now adults – in the city, they were moved to the waiting room.

The order the matchmakers would see them was also based on family names and he was glad for being Bokuto.

Akaashi went in the rooms with the first batch. He was still inside when Bokuto’ s turn was called, not long after. As he sat down in the chair across the desk, they set a file down in front of him.

The Soulmate File.

It had everything about your soulmate, from their favorite color to their allergies. It was kinda creepy sometimes, but the government _did_ know everything about everyone. Why hide it?

He held his breath – even though he _knew_ whose picture would be there – as he opened it.

It wasn’t Akaashi Keiji printed across the top of the page.

It was Suzumeda Kaori, a friend from school. Not Akaashi.

As the official explained some rules and being safe and whatever, he flipped through the pages, not really paying attention to what she said.

When he finally got out, he saw Akaashi was waiting for him. He looked happy.

Later, on the train ride back home, he found out Akaashi got Shirofuku Yukie. He said he was glad he got someone he knew, someone who was in his class.

But weren’t _they_ soulmates? Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji.

Weren’t they meant to be together?

Why were they separated then? Was it a mistake? No, they never made mistakes like this in such important things.

Then…

What if they weren’t soulmates

What if they were _never_ meant to be?

Every life spent searching and wishing … was it never supposed to have happened? Every brutal ending, was it a sign? That they were searching for the wrong person?

The red strings. Did they not mean soulmates at all? What if they meant people who were _never meant to be?_

The questions left him confused. This time, instead of fighting back, he let it play out. He went on dates with his soulmate – Kaori. He got to know her, and he liked her. Kaori was nice, she was funny and smart. But she wasn’t Akaashi. Bokuto liked her, but only as a friend.

Akaashi though… he really liked Yukie, and he was happy with her.

And honestly, Bokuto was glad. Even if they were never meant to be, they’d spent lifetimes together. If Yukie made him happy, that was fine.

Yes, he was jealous. He wanted Akaashi. Why could he never have him? Why couldn’t it be fair, just this once? Why did Yukie get him?

Yes, he wanted _so badly_ to scream at the matchmakers and plead for Akaashi. But it was useless, they wouldn’t do anything.

But yes, Akaashi was honestly happy and Bokuto was _not_ going to hurt him. He wasn’t going to ruin Akaashi’ s happiness for his own selfish desires. No.

And yeah, the curiosity was killing him.

_Could he see a future with Yukie? Was she happy? Did she like him? Did he love her?_

So, Bokuto – never one to shy away from things easily obtained – asked, at the old playground where they first met years ago, on the swings. And Akaashi answered.

_Yes, he could see a future with her. Yes, she was happy and like him. But he didn’t love her. Not yet, anyway._

That only raised more questions.

_Why? If he could change, would he? If he could choose anyone – anyone – who? If – by some crazy chance – he ended up with Bokuto, what would he say?_

And every time, Akaashi answered every single question.

_Every. Single. Time._

He didn’t hide his answers. He took a moment, thinking each over carefully before speaking. And he answered every single one.

_No, he wouldn’t change because it’d be difficult to choose. If he could have anyone, then it would be even more difficult. If he ended up with Bokuto… then he didn’t know. He’d never thought of it before._

Then, in the cold air of winter, almost a month after the ceremony, Bokuto realized something.

Maybe they weren’t soulmates. But in each life, they had the choice to love whoever they wanted. Maybe they were lovers who were never meant to be.

And Bokuto was fine with that.

Every time Akaashi had loved him, he’d gotten hurt. So, if Akaashi didn’t love him this time, it was okay. It was okay because Akaashi was happy. It was okay because it meant that Akaashi wasn’t going to get hurt this time.

And as long as Akaashi was happy, he’d be okay.

Bokuto would be okay as long as Akaashi was in his life. It was enough. It would _have to be enough_ because for once in this cycle, Akaashi was happy.

It that mean Bokuto had to back off, that was okay. Because Akaashi came first.

His happiness came first.

So Bokuto was okay.

He’d fallen in love with Akaashi a million times. He’d fallen in love with his cute smile and pretty eyes and silky black hair. With his sarcasm and sharp tongue. With his adorable shy face and his calm and his grace and everything that made him _Akaashi_.

He fell in love with his innocence, his smarts, his fierceness, his loyalty, his determination, then his soul, his formalities, his bravery… he’d missed him in the lives he couldn’t find him, he’d loved him when he was there.

Bokuto fell in in love with Akaashi Keiji, and if he didn’t love him back, that was okay.

Bokuto would be okay, he’d still love Akaashi.

He’d cry and wish and dream….

But Akaashi was happy, that’s what mattered.

And at the end of the day, Bokuto would be okay.

Akaashi had cheered him up and been so, _so_ kind to him.

Now, it was Bokuto’ s turn. He’d be okay. Promise.

\-------------------------------------------------------

It was morning and a patch of sunlight slipped past the curtains and fell on his face. Bokuto grumbled, rolling over and burying his head under the covers.

What time was it? He sat up slowly and checked his phone, ignoring the stream of texts from Kuroo about some movie. 10 o’clock.

“I don’t wanna get up…” he whined, leaning against the headboard. His head hurt and his eyes stung. Had he been crying in his sleep?

Glancing at the other side of the bed, he furrowed his brows. It was empty. “’Kaashi?”

“Yes?” a distant voice called back. Silence, then Akaashi poked his head in the room. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Bokuto hummed, happy now. “I had a dream about you.”

“A dream…” Akaashi smiled softly and looked at Bokuto with an expression he didn’t quite understand.

"Wanna know what happened?"

"Sure..." Akaashi nodded, somewhat hesistant.

“So first we were kids and your family was staying with mine. But then you moved, and I never saw you again.” His voice lowered as he remembered the dream, tangling a hand in his hair.

“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi whispered, no longer smiling. He stepped into the room and Bokuto ignored him, continuing his story.

“Then we were in college and you died in car crash…”

“Bokuto-san…” he repeated, coming closer.

“Then I was a pirate and you were in the navy. You fought me and I lost…” he laughed. Why were his eyes stinging? “Guess you’re too strong for me, huh ‘Kaashi?”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’ s eyes were glittering with tears and he looked away.

_No please. Not again._

“Then, we played volleyball in high school. We lost nationals and you… disappeared. Again.”

“Please, Bokuto- san.” He was standing by the bed now.

“Then, we were in a war. We got separated and you died…” Bokuto sucked in a breath. “Again.”

“Please.” Akaashi was crying now and Bokuto felt horrible. Was it him? Akaashi was crying because of him, wasn’t he? But he kept going because he needed to. _He needed to._

“Then,” Bokuto whispered, looking away from Akaashi. _Not now. Please_. “I was a superhero. I never found you.”

Akaashi opened his mouth, but he cut him off. If he spoke now, then Bokuto would start crying too. “Then we were girls. We ran away from home, and these men… they found us, and they hurt you. I killed myself.”

He kept crying and Bokuto wanted to comfort him. But, deep down, he knew.

“Then I was a gamer. You liked my videos. We planned to meet up, but you never showed…” Bukoto’s voice cracked and he swiped at his eyes. Why did it hurt so much? It was only a dream.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispered, but he didn’t hear him, eyes focused on the blankets.

“Then we were in apocalypse. You got infected and you’d made me promise to kill you if that happened. I had to…” The tears slid down his face.

Akaashi shook his head in a silent plea. He kept going.

“Then we were in another world. The government chose our partners. There was a red string between us, but we weren’t matched.” Bokuto smiled, finally turning to Akaashi. “But you were happy, so I was okay. I’m glad… it was just a dream.”

“Bokuto -san.” Akaashi whispered again. “Wake up.”

“No.” he gripped the blankets. “I’m fine –”

“Please. Wake up. _Wake up._ ”

And so, Bokuto awoke again, alone in the middle of night.

He rubbed at his face. A dream. A horrible, _horrible_ dream that made his chest ache and eyes burn with unshed tears.

No. It wasn’t a dream. It was a cycle of torturous life and it was his to live.

Akaashi had died four years ago in this world. Bokuto still carried his ghost.

But it was okay. He was okay.

Because he had made a promise.

‘ _I will find you, in every life. I promise. I will find you and I will love you.’_

The world, the life, the bodies could change, but Bokuto would not.

Bokuto would love Akaashi in every life, even if Akaashi didn’t love him back.

He promised.


End file.
